THE BEST CHRISTMAS PAGEANT EVER

My niece, Ruthie, is in yet another play at Buck Creek.

Oh and BTW, she is directing a musical (Oklahoma) in 2012. Yes, that's directing, the youngest director ever at Buck Creek. :-)



From the Buck Creek Players website:

THE BEST CHRISTMAS PAGEANT EVER
a holiday treat for the entire family by Barbara Robinson

The Herdmans are the worst kids in the history of the world. They lie, steal, smoke cigars, swear and hit little kids. So no one is prepared when this outlaw family invades the annual Christmas pageant. Their interpretation has a lot of people up in arms, but it will make this year's pageant the most unusual any one has ever seen and--just possibly--the best one ever.

December 3-4-5, 10-11-12, 17-18-19, 2010

Harbinger

Yesterday my husband and I finished our holiday decorating. Today I completed my last edits on my new book, The Prodigy. Next week I will be sending it to a publisher.

Many writers don't submit during December because they believe no one will look at it until the new year. Probably true, but I have a holiday fantasy that goes like this: a lone assistant editor the night before Christmas pulls out yet another manuscript from the slush pile. She's mad about staying late. But the story intrigues her. She can't put it down...

Yeah. Something like that. :-)

I'm hoping that the Harbinger of Joy depicted on this vintage postcard will bring me luck...and anyone else who has a manuscript out there.

Over the River and through the Woods

Over the River and through the Woods by Lydia Maria Child is one of the few Thanksgiving songs I know of. Sometimes people make it into a Christmas song by changing a couple of words, but it was written for Turkey Day.

Thanksgiving was never a big deal in my house growing up...the holiday was more of a Christmas pre-start, as my mom decorated anything that didn't move. After I became a vegetarian about twenty-five years ago the turkey part certainly lost its luster, and I never was a stuff-until-you-drop kind of gal. Unless you're talking about Skittles, but that's another story.

I love this song because it is so very Americana: the food, seeing family during the holidays, snow, and enjoying the great outdoors with a cozy interior just around the corner.

Although my Thanksgiving in many ways is not traditional, I do use this holiday to consider all of my blessings. When many in the world don't have enough to eat or drink and worry about their safety, I have the luxury of being able to write fiction. I will never, ever take that for granted.

Have a good one!!

Over the river, and through the wood,
To Grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh
through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river, and through the wood—
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes and bites the nose
As over the ground we go.

Over the river, and through the wood,
To have a first-rate play.
Hear the bells ring, "Ting-a-ling-ding",
Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!

Over the river, and through the wood
Trot fast, my dapple-gray!
Spring over the ground like a hunting-hound,
For this is Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river, and through the wood—
And straight through the barnyard gate,
We seem to go extremely slow,
It is so hard to wait!

Over the river, and through the wood—
Now Grandmother's cap I spy!
Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!

Cleaning

My sister dubbed me a clothes horse years ago, and as Garfield the cat would say, I resemble that remark. I retorted that I found my stuff on sale, the Goodwill, and more recently on ebay …there’s nothing like the thrill of finding designer jeans , tags ON, for a song. She replied back well yes, but that doesn’t change how much stuff you have. Very true.

So now and then I do a giant sorting and clearing out. It’s no fun to do, but it feels good when I’m done.

I do the same with my writing records. I’ve finished editing my new book, The Prodigy, and that same sister is now editing it. (She is my first and best editor). I’ve completed the synopsis and cover letter. I’m not ready to start a new book…the contemplation phase is still going.

So what to do…besides holiday stuff? It's time to do some cleaning. I check over where all of my manuscripts are, and how long respective peoples have had them. One needed a polite ahem, are you still looking at it? Another had passed the allotted time with no answer (unless you are dealing with a particular person or you have sent materials, silence means no). So I found another place to submit that one.

Being a writer means you own your own business, and no one but you is going to remind you that these tasks need tending to. A manuscript in limbo is a story that isn’t published. And it gives a sense of control to a business that often feels like the writer has no control.

Just like eliminating those beautiful, designer shoes that hurt my feet. :-)

Kinda Wow…

…is how I’m feeling this morning. It isn’t a big wow, perhaps more like a quiet woo. :-)

I finished another book: The Prodigy. I still have some editing to go. But it’s done.

I realized as I was checking for overused words and phrases, mistakes of spelling, punctuation, and consistency, that I’ve finally found that writing groove: idea gestation, compose, DONE, edit, submit, sell. (Or course, there is another whole list of stuff to do after you sell, but this is my list.)

I’m very happy I have another one under my belt. I’m satisfied to see my writing technically improve with every book…I don’t have to edit as much, yea! I’m looking forward to the contemplation and cogitation that comes with starting a new story.

But what I’m most glad about is that I finally feel like I’ve settled in. Yeah, still waiting for an agent and still very much wanting to have that best seller, but in the meantime, I feel like a writer.

A real one.

How My Life Inspires Me

This is not going to be a deep moving story. But it is an example of how I often use my own life to draw from in my fiction. The following tale will make it into a book.

My husband and I got married on Halloween. This year he gave me a beautiful ring, and knowing my penchant for long baths, a bath bomb. For those of you who don’t know what that is, picture a giant cellophane wrapped ball that fizzes on contact with water. This one was named Candy Corn. Nice and Halloween-y. Last night I gathered up all my bathing equipment and planned a nice evening.

Short intermission: Gary and I have not always lived in our cozy condo by the lake. We once resided on what could only be called a homestead; a gorgeous 1920's “fixer upper” house on a huge track of land. We both realized after ten or so years that while we liked the idea of a country estate, the practicalities of said living arrangement were not so great. At least, not without garden minions. And maybe Mike Holmes. Anyway, we downsized and moved, wanting to spend our free time on things like, say, writing.

We shared our country house with various uninvited critters: mice, termites, centipedes, flies, and spiders. Big spiders, like those huge ones you see in the garden and think wow, I’m glad it’s outside. Once when I was taking a bath I swirled the water around and lo, floating atop a mound of bubbles, was one of those spiders. It was dead, but still.

So back to the present; I threw in the bomb and watched it fizz away. I took a sip of wine and looked again…thank the stars I wasn’t in there…and saw a giant spider bobbing along the warm currents. I screamed and Gary came running. Bug, I yelled. (We have an equal relationship. But in my opinion, it’s still the Man’s Job to kill insects.) He leaned over and burst out laughing.

The spider was plastic. Apparently, the makers of these bath bombs thought it would be hilarious to insert a spider into the Halloween ones. Hardy har har.

It’s funny now. And great story fodder.